


Mi Kasa He Su Kasa

by Reyanth



Category: Tenipuri - Fandom, Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Kind of wholesome, M/M, Surprisingly light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-06-05 01:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6683740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reyanth/pseuds/Reyanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tezuka is staying at the Echizen household while training for a doubles match in which he and Nanjirou will play against Atobe and his coach. This suits Tezuka very well as he has his eye on a certain member of the household whose name starts with R and ends in A.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quite possibly one of the lightest multi-part fics I've ever written. I wonder how long it will stay that way...?

Tezuka smiled as he looked out the window, watching Ryouma play with his kitten. Normally he would concentrate more on what Nanjirou-san was saying, but it was just so cute the way the younger Echizen was rolling around in the grass with his precious Karupin. Really, it was.

No, Tezuka was not getting soft. 

“Atobe will be playing with Hyoutei’s coach, Sakaki-san. You’ve played Atobe before, right? Care to fill me in? …No? I should have known better. Staring out the window at Ryouma-chan is one of my favorite past-times, too…”

“Aa? Aa! Eto… Atobe-san.” Tezuka mentally kicked himself for getting so distracted. “The Rondo towards destruction is a dangerous technique but easily countered with a little foresight. It’s also not too big of a threat in a doubles match as a skilled partner could return the second smash even if the first is successful.” Tezuka switched over into narration mode to hide his embarrassment. “As for Atobe’s insight… It is only a danger if you have a weakness to exploit.”

“Is that all?” Nanjirou laughed almost sarcastically. “Well then, as long as we play perfectly, we’ll be just fine!”

Serious now, Tezuka bowed slightly, acceding to the point, but still…

“I doubt he would be a threat to us as a team, especially if we play cautiously without letting our guards down,” he said. “Coach Sakaki, I am less familiar with.”

He was dying to get out on the court with Nanjirou. Even Tezuka couldn’t resist the urge to impress such a prestigious—odd though he was—former pro with such reputed skill.

Of course, it had nothing to do with Nanjirou being Ryouma’s father…

“Right you are Tezuka-chan! Don’t worry about that old stiff. I know all his secrets.” Nanjirou chortled as he stretched and slapped his hand down on Tezuka’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s play a few games.”

Tezuka resisted the urge to twitch at the ‘chan’ affixed to his name, and quietly followed Nanjirou out of the house. They passed by Ryouma who paused and watched them walk up the path. 

He didn’t follow them to the court up in the temple as Tezuka had hoped but perhaps it was for the best. He needed to concentrate on one Echizen at a time—especially whilst playing tennis.

"Thank you for letting me stay here," he said suddenly. "It was nice of you to welcome me into your home."

They were preparing for what was to be the first annual Mentors and Protégés Doubles Tournament held in Tokyo. Due to Nanjirou filling in whilst Ryuzaki-sensei was on leave in Guam, Tezuka would be teaming up with the former pro against some familiar faces from rival schools.

It was both exciting and terrifying, all at once.

"Well, you know what they say in Spanish," Nanjirou threw over his shoulder as he set down a basket of balls near the temple bell. "My umbrella is your umbrella," he said in English.

"Excuse me?" asked Tezuka, baffled.

"Mi kasa he su kasa," Nanjirou told him with a derisive snort, setting up for the serve.

Was that supposed to be Spanish? The phrase, as Tezuka knew it, was "My home is your home." In Japanese, the word "kasa" meant "umbrella" in English... Just how many languages had the former pro managed to mangle with that-

“Hoi, Tezuka-chan! Eyes on the ball!” Nanjirou called, crushing his train of thought.

Actually, it was the ball flying at high speed toward a point between his eyes that got his attention. Nanjirou’s reminder just put what his instinct told him into words.

Even as human reaction took control and Tezuka tried to bend backwards to escape, his experience allowed him to snap up his racket just in time and deflect the missile, though he was knocked off balance and fell over on his rump.

With as much dignity as he could muster, Tezuka picked himself up and dusted off the dirt of the crude court. He was kicking himself for losing concentration, yet again, and also trying to placate himself into not snapping at the man for such an underhanded shot while he was distracted. It was, after all, his fault for being distracted at all.

Sighing, he straightened his glasses and forced himself to be serious.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” he said in apology, bowing formally, as if it was entirely his fault that the former pro had launched a nasty gag of a ball right between his eyes.

Nanjirou looked surprised for a moment, and Tezuka’s lips twitched in sympathy for the smile he was feeling as he realized that Ryouma would probably be yelling and throwing a tantrum at his father about now… Of course, he probably wouldn’t be caught so blindsided. Then again, Tezuka never had been before, either.

Well, everyone was allowed one mistake.

He casually tossed the ball back to Nanjirou, thinking: ‘Yudan sezou ni ikkou.’ He then repeated the phrase to himself for emphasis, in rough English. “Let’s not get careless.”

A moment later, Nanjirou served, aiming for the same spot, but Tezuka was ready. He responded with ease, sidestepping and returning the ball with a smooth backhand.

*

Ryouma lay on the grass, holding Karupin in the air above him. He had his back to the temple but his eyes were directed towards his forehead, and, essentially, the temple tennis court. He could hear the resounding claps of ball hitting racket, indicating a game, and almost fell into a trance listening to the ritualistic pattern. 

Slowly, he lowered Karupin to his chest and held her loosely, closing his eyes and trying to imagine the match. It was hard to believe his father was playing seriously, but on the other hand, it was hard to imagine anyone playing as stupidly as his father usually did against Tezuka. 

Would Tezuka give him a chance to? 

Ryouma desperately wanted to go and watch but his pride wouldn’t allow him to. For the simple fact that he ‘wanted’ to watch, he forced himself to stay right where he was.

There were so many reasons to watch this game. Tezuka might just show him how to beat his father. His father might show him how to beat Tezuka. He might just get to see his father stop joking around for once. Maybe Tezuka would reveal more of his game than Ryouma had yet seen…

So many reasons, and yet despite all of those good, viable reasons, the one that influenced Ryouma’s desire to watch was so much more… primitive.

He had the chance to watch Tezuka, on his territory, on his terms. Here, in his own home, he could watch Tezuka without being overly observed himself. He could watch Tezuka and really appreciate the view.

The thought of Tezuka playing on his turf gave Ryouma a sense of confidence that he wasn’t too apt to trust. He might do something silly—like confess feelings of an attraction that he wasn’t entirely sure of…

Ryouma highly admired his captain, and while he knew that there was more to it than that, he wasn’t ready to admit it. He wasn’t ready to acknowledge that he had real feelings for Tezuka, maybe even really strong feelings.

He was afraid.

If his father ever found out what Ryouma was thinking, he’d be so disappointed. Nanjirou was always talking about girls, and how he couldn’t wait for Ryouma to start making his mark on the female population. If he ever knew Ryouma might be gay… 

It was something the young boy didn’t want to think about.

*

After almost two hours of hard, fast tennis, Tezuka sunk to his knee. He was panting hard and sweat trickled down from his hairline in little rivulets, independent beads covering his face, chest, shoulders, and arms... He hadn’t played this hard in a long time. No, he didn’t think he’d ever played so hard.

On the bright side, Nanjirou certainly hadn’t in a long time. The older man was wheezing and lying sprawled on his back. 

He’d seemed fine until the moment Tezuka gave in to gravity, and then he suddenly keeled over, groaning and practically hyperventilating. Tezuka wasn’t worried, though. He was sure it was an act. At least, partly sure it was partly an act…

After such an intense one-on-one session, he was now confident that he and Echizen, Nanjirou made a perfect team. They would conquer all of their opponents under their combined strength.

More importantly, he felt a little closer to the once illusive man who had seemed to ride on a pedestal, even with the façade he put on in trying to bring himself down to a tangible level. Now, he felt just a little more approachable, a little more human, and Tezuka was thankful.

They were going to have to work as a team, and that would be much easier if they were standing on level ground. 

It honestly had nothing to do with the fact that Nanjirou was Ryouma’s father. Nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Language note:  
> "He" is the phonetic spelling for the Japanese character "へ" often pronounced "e (as in get)". It can be a transitional compound, "to (become)/to (change) into" in some cases.  
> "Kasa" means umbrella in Japanese.  
> "Mi kasa e su kasa" is widely known as Spanish for "my home is your home".  
> Hence, "Mi kasa he su kasa" becomes a silly bilingual joke on multiple levels.
> 
> This is a joke I lamely repeat to all of my Japanese/Japanese-speaking friends whenever I share an umbrella. Most of them either don't get it, or don't find it nearly as funny as I do. ^_^;


	2. Chapter 2

“Oi, Ryouma!”

Ryouma twitched. He was not going to respond to that summons. No, he was not.

Not the first time. 

“Ryouma!”

Not the second time.

“Seishou~nen!”

Not until Nanako came out carrying a tray, smiled her sunniest smile, and politely asked if he would deliver the iced tea she was sure Nanjirou was after. It wasn’t that she was any more persuasive than Ryouma’s dad, but she had included a can of Ponta on the tray, so…

Ryouma almost did a double take when he saw Tezuka. 

The captain was seated on the dirt court with one leg tucked under him and the other raised. He looked… tired. Not to mention hot. Yes, very hot…

With the buttons of his polo shirt open, Ryouma could see sweat dripping down from his neck to trickle between his pecks and then disappear beneath soaked white cotton. Tezuka’s glasses were in his hand, his eyes closed as he lifted his head to catch the faint breeze across his face. His hair, sweat-soaked, was partially over his face and far more ruffled than Ryouma had ever seen it.

“Hey, pipsqueak, stop staring and bring that over here.”

Ryouma’s eyes instantly snapped to his father, and he was reminded of why he shouldn’t be openly staring at his captain. However, he wasn’t going to be caught off guard that easily.

Shooting a raspberry over his shoulder at the old man, he took the tray over to Tezuka first.

“Buchou,” he said with a dip of his head, indicating one of the glasses.

“Thank you,” Tezuka replied curtly, after his eyes met Ryouma’s momentarily.

Had he seen Ryouma staring? Was he embarrassed?

Suddenly, Ryouma was all too willing to take the tray over to his father, if only to get a little further away from Tezuka. It wasn’t until he was moving toward the prone ex-pro that he realized he’d gotten partially hard just looking at Tezuka like that… That was an image he would not be forgetting soon.

“Aaaah, I’m parched!” Nanjirou groaned, instantly rocking into a sitting position and reaching up for his iced tea.

Only, he made to grab Ryouma’s Ponta instead. Bastard.

Acting fast, Ryouma jerked the tray out of his grasp, sticking out his tongue. He then rescued the teetering iced tea and handed it to his father with a cold stare. 

“Mada mada dane,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Echizen.”

“Hmm?” Ryouma glanced over, wishing he hadn’t as he immediately felt heat infuse his cheeks.

Why did Tezuka have to look like he was posing for one of the old perv’s erotic magazines? His glasses were back on—which only made him sexier in Ryouma’s view, and he had his cold tea pressed against his chest, obviously to cool him down some. However, he was either blatantly ignoring or simply unaware of just how damn good he looked, because he was peering at Ryouma with a serious, business-like expression.

“Nanjirou-sensei-” (Ryouma snorted) “-has invited me to stay here for a week while training for the tournament. Is that alright with you?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Ryouma replied, shrugging it off and avoiding Tezuka’s gaze as he slipped the tray under his arm and cracked open the Ponta. It wasn’t like he could say ‘According to my anatomy, you’re more than welcome to stay in my house, my room, my bed....’ “Do whatever you like.”

“Oi, show some respect to your captain,” Nanjirou scolded, almost startling Ryouma, who’d forgotten he was even there in just the few moments he’d engaged in conversation with Tezuka.

“Shut up, Oyaji… And go take a shower. You stink,” he added for good measure.

“Actually, I think I might take that advice,” Nanjirou replied, surprisingly. 

He groaned his way to standing, making a couple of nearly unintelligible comments about his age at which Ryouma rolled his eyes and even Tezuka sniffed at. Then, with as much energy as usual, he made his exit.

“Catch you later, little boys,” he said, almost copping a half full Ponta can to the head—but that would have been a waste.

After a moment, Ryouma made to follow, but Tezuka stopped him.

“Echizen, would you stay and hit a light rally with me? I should warm down after that match,” he explained.

“Haaai,” Ryouma replied lazily.

They played very lightly, just giving Tezuka’s muscles a chance to cool down without seizing up, but Ryouma soon found himself much warmer than he should be. 

He just didn’t understand it. He’d always appreciated Tezuka’s appearance, of course—he’d have to be blind not to—but all of a sudden, every movement, every word, every grunt or huff… It was as though he was in heat like Karupin sometimes got. All Tezuka had to do was breathe and it was turning him on.

By the time Tezuka judged himself sufficiently warmed down, Ryouma didn’t want to even go near him for fear of sprouting a full on hard-on. Instead, he told Tezuka to go ahead and that he was going to stay and practice for a little longer.

The moment Tezuka was gone, Ryouma lowered his head, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He was in trouble. He was suddenly falling hard for his captain and the prospect of Tezuka staying under his roof for one week was almost too much. He both excitedly anticipated it and dreaded it, though the latter quickly became the dominant emotion.

What if he screwed up? What if Tezuka caught him looking or noticed him blushing? Worse, what if his father found out?

Irritated with himself, and also with Tezuka just for being himself and causing the problem in the first place, Ryouma picked the ball out of his pocket and tossed it high in the air. As it came down, he slammed it with the racket, smashing it hard into the opposite court.

He really had to get a grip.

*

Tezuka sagged against the shower wall. Not only was he physically exhausted but he was almost mentally so, as well. All day he’d been experiencing mental gymnastics revolving around Ryouma. He’d managed to focus himself in order to face Nanjirou head-on, but afterwards… When Ryouma appeared, looking at him as if he was a tasty little kitty treat…

Tezuka shuddered, his fingers almost subconsciously drifting over his erection. 

Usually, Ryouma wasn’t the type to be easily read, but just then, he’d been as open as a children’s pop-up book. And what Tezuka had learned from its pages made him very, very nervous.

It made him think twice about sleeping under the Echizen roof (which was exactly why he’d faced the issue before he could run away). It made him consider apologizing to Nanjirou and calling the whole partnership off…

How could he play doubles with a man whose son he was lusting after—whose son was almost obviously lusting after him? …A man who wasn’t nearly as oblivious as he’d like people to think. 

How could he face Ryouma, knowing that he was unlikely to be rejected, and in that case, how could he ‘not’ act on his impulse to pin the boy against a wall and grind until he reached a much needed mutual orgasm? How could he maintain his bearing as a captain when all he wanted to do was ravish Ryouma until he was satisfied? 

Even as he thought all of this, Tezuka had begun to stroke himself. All the while, there was a memory of Ryouma in his mind, staring at him with a decidedly noticeable bulge in his shorts.

Groaning, Tezuka braced himself and began to stroke faster. The sooner he got this out of his system, the less likely it was to get him killed.


	3. Chapter 3

Day one, Tezuka had walked in on Ryouma in the bath—at a very bad time.

Day two, Ryouma had had to run through the house half naked to catch a Karupin who had stolen his underwear. Tezuka had come in from the kitchen to see what the noise was about and copped quite an eyeful.

Day three, Tezuka had dropped a fork under the dinner table and gotten a good look at Ryouma’s bulging erection whilst picking up the innocent utensil. Consequently, when Ryouma popped down to help him look, he was faced with a slightly blushing Tezuka who babbled off a stupid story about the blood rushing to his head while he hung it in search of his fork, and…

*

Day four:

“Oi, Ryouma!”

“Whaddya want, Oyaji?”

“Come here for a minute.”

Sighing, Ryouma smacked his pen down on the table. He was almost done with his English homework. Tezuka and his dad had just gotten in from the tennis court and he was already being summoned…

“What?” he asked grumpily, instantly regretting his brattiness once he spotted Tezuka behind his dad. 

“I’m going to the store, so you help Tezuka stretch out his cramped muscle, okay? Good boy.”

Ryouma didn’t even get a chance to agree or complain. Nanjirou was gone in a scant moment, leaving Ryouma alone with his captain.

“I guess,” he sighed, though on the inside he was oddly happy at the prospect of being alone with Tezuka. The women of the house were out at the movies.

“It’s my thigh,” Tezuka told him, avoiding his eyes. Supposedly the captain was embarrassed at having cramped up.

He took a couple of limping steps before Ryouma ducked under his arm and helped him to the living room and then down to the floor. It wasn’t until then that Ryouma understood what a thigh cramp meant.

His mouth a little dry, he asked which leg. Tezuka told him, lying back and wincing in pain as he lifted the offending limb. Ryouma reached out, just a touch too eagerly, and began to massage Tezuka’s firm thigh muscle, his hands rippling over the skin and working out the spasms.

Slowly, Tezuka relaxed under his touch and Ryouma heard him sigh in relief and knew the cramp was averted. He was enjoying the feel of Tezuka’s muscles too much to end the contact, though, so he slowed down but continued to caress the muscle, as if trying to make sure the cramp was all gone. Secretly, his mind was fixed firmly on how hard Tezuka’s thighs were, and how sexy…

Suddenly, Tezuka’s hand closed over his, stopping the motions.

“That’s enough,” the captain said quietly, his glasses flashing as he caught Ryouma’s eyes. “The cramp’s gone.”

“I’ll help you stretch,” Ryouma offered, not wanting to let go.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll-”

Ryouma was already leaning on Tezuka’s bent knee, pushing it back toward the captain's chest. What he didn’t expect was for Tezuka to be so flexible. Ryouma had to practically lie on top of him before his thigh was stretched enough to benefit.

It probably hurt, but in that good way. Tezuka eyes were closed and his lips partially open. As Ryouma bounced very lightly, the captain shifted uncomfortably. A moment later, he said, “That’ll do,” but Ryouma had already felt it.

As he leaned on Tezuka’s leg, Ryouma brushed against the captain’s crotch—which was rock solid. How had he not noticed earlier? He thought of what he’d assumed was a painful expression and suddenly realized the truth, blushing out of embarrassment and hardening considerably himself. Damn his hormones.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Tezuka’s eyes opened and he stared up at Ryouma, causing the rookie’s breath to catch. There was something about that stare, something he’d never seen in Tezuka’s eyes before. Lust?

“Don’t apologize, just-”

But Ryouma’s hand was already wandering, purely out of curiosity. He had to be sure of what he felt.

His fingers reached the bulge and he pressed harder, rubbing and feeling out the contour. He was vaguely aware that he was effectively rubbing his captain’s erection, but he just couldn’t seem to recall his hand. His eyes, too, were glued to the sight now, and he desperately wanted to see beneath the shorts.

“Echizen.”

Tezuka’s voice sounded strained, and his neck was arched into the ground, his eyes closed a little more tightly than was natural. 

“Buchou,” Ryouma whispered, understanding that he was going to be in a world of trouble very soon, but he just didn’t want to stop. All week he’d been teased with glimpses of Tezuka; sometimes half naked, sometimes glistening with sweat.

Before he could stop himself, he knelt over his captain and slid his hand down into Tezuka’s shorts, his fingers running over the soft skin covering impossibly hard flesh. He took the length in his hand and began to stroke slowly and gently, just appreciating the shape and size.

Tezuka seemed to stop breathing, his lips hanging open, his face beginning to glisten just slightly with sweat due to a body that hadn't quite cooled down. He couldn’t seem to stop his hips from grinding into Ryouma’s hand.

Just being able to touch Tezuka had Ryouma’s erection creating a wet spot inside his boxer shorts. He tugged Tezuka’s down, biting his lip as he observed the fascinating length, and seated himself stably on Tezuka’s abdomen, reaching back to continue stroking. Somehow, the captain still didn’t stop him and he continued the motion, half twisted for reach and pumping harder and faster, without the restriction of clothes in the way.

Tezuka began to buck into his hand, panting and grunting softly. A moment before his balls tightened in anticipation of release, he shifted and reached down to squeeze Ryouma’s crotch. Just that one touch, along with the feel of Tezuka ejaculating over his hand, had ryouma coming. He bucked against Tezuka’s hand, moaning and closing his eyes at the incredible feeling.

Just one touch and he’d come harder than he ever had masturbating. 

When he managed to re-establish his connection with the world, opening his eyes and trying to regain a steady rate of breath, he was met with Tezuka's stare. The captain seemed so hesitant he was like a different person. In fact, Ryouma had never seen such an unguarded expression on his features—that light in Tezuka's eyes a little more honest than he knew how to deal with.

Panicking, he scrambled away, apologizing even as he ran for the stairs, up to his room, amd dove onto his bed. He didn't stay put for long. He felt rather uncomfortable curled up around the squishy patch in his boxers, his soiled hand extended and held up off the mattress. His cheeks burning in shame, Ryouma stripped out of his clothes, wiped himself with a patch of the cotton boxers and then tossed them into a far corner of the room. Naked, he crawled into his bed and just lay there repeating the incident over again and again in his mind.

Though he knew it was hardly believable, he pretended to be asleep when he heard the hesitant knock and subsequent sigh at his door. 

*

With unnecessary care, Tezuka closed the door to his temporary room. Slowly, he leaned against it, a frown dragging down the corners of his mouth.

He was troubled. To say the least.

Sighing, he slid down to the floor, kneading at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He didn't know what to do. At this rate, the relationship he had with Ryouma as friend, peer, and captain, was going to break apart all because he couldn't keep control of himself. 

Staring blankly through his knees at the tatami flooring, he tried to clear his mind of such negative thoughts. There had to be something he could do. He didn't want to lose Ryouma who was a valued friend—as well as an invaluable asset to the team.

Truthfully, he didn't know if Ryouma would consider him a friend, per se. Despite the younger boy's talent and potential, Tezuka was still the captain and his rank formed a barrier between him and those of the younger grades. The third years were officially his equals outside of the club—though probably none but Fuji would comfortably admit that much—but the first and second years were forever looking up to him, and part of that was his fault.

He wasn't the type of captain to lower himself to the status of his team; to get close to them, and nurture them personally. He was the type of captain to inspire and lead by example. He was the type of captain to keep his distance in order to execute strict punishment as well as the occasional piece of well-earned praise.

Who knew where Echizen stood, though?

He was definitely cocky enough to hold himself on the same level as Tezuka—even if he did respect Tezuka where he respected few others. Yet, he and Tezuka never really talked. They never had meaningless, chatty conversations. Then again, neither of them was the chatty type… Tezuka tried to make an extra effort if there was someone he really wanted to get to know, and he suspected that Ryouma had the potential to be a social butterfly if he could be bothered, but neither of them had shown the other that side of himself.

So where did the line start and end, and where was Tezuka in relation to it?

For that matter, where was Ryouma in relation to Tezuka's line? He didn't know.

He knew he felt strong lust for the first year. He knew his judgment was gravely compromised in Echizen's presence. He knew there had to be more to his feelings than simple lust or he wouldn't be sitting on the floor stewing over the recent encounter.

Or would he? It really was a dire situation.

How could Tezuka have let himself get hard from a routine massage? Why hadn't he tried harder to keep Echizen from noticing? Why hadn't he pushed the boy away when those impudent hands began to probe? Now Echizen was locked away in his room, probably dying of embarrassment and probably some confusion, and there Tezuka sat, his head in his hands and his brain a gooey puddle between his feet.

In less than polite terms: he was screwed.

*

Nanjirou hummed as he browsed through the "not for children" rack at the local convenience store. Ah, he loved Japan. Nowhere else could you buy porn a few feet from your house.

Speaking of porn... He was quite sure something interesting had to be going on back home right at that very moment. If it wasn't, he would be rather disappointed. He'd set things up so nicely for those baka sons of his. Well, one of them wasn't really his son—and good thing at that or else he'd have a much worse taboo on his hands than encouraging homosexuality.

Oh, he was an open minded guy. He didn't really care who Ryouma got it on with, as long as he did. Besides, Tezuka would be a fine catch, even for a family that would have wanted a straight son. He was smart, talented, and extremely good looking—or so Nanjirou assumed. He wasn't used to assessing guys on looks, but if that was what Ryouma wanted (and clearly, he did), then that was fine. More than fine. Nanjirou thoroughly approved of Tezuka.

So he wished the two of them would just get it together already. Enough damn pussyfooting around when they thought he wasn’t looking—as if he wouldn’t notice! Obviously, they both had some kind of complex related to him, so he'd done them a favor and taken himself out of the house.

They'd better appreciate it.

If he found out Ryouma was still a virgin by the time Tezuka returned to his own home, Nanjirou was going to have to thoroughly re-educate his son.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Ryouma didn't leave his room until after the early dinner. He convinced his mother to put together some of the leftover food, even though he'd been rude enough to skip her carefully planned family meal.

He just wasn't ready to face Tezuka—which was rather difficult considering they currently lived under the same roof. He had heard his father coax Tezuka into the living room after dinner. Now, from his seat at the kitchen table, he could just hear the smatterings of their strategic tennis talk. His mother had long since taken off upstairs and his aunt had been suspiciously absent since his mother had returned home, laden with shopping bags to noisily drag up the stairs and demand help with from her lazy husband. How had she bought so much stuff when she was supposed to be at the gym?

As he almost hesitatingly took a bite of his meat-scrap sandwich, Ryouma felt a blush brought to his cheeks by the sound of Tezuka's voice. Instantly, the memory of their encounter sprung up in his mind and he found it hard to swallow the food that he had forgotten to chew.

What was he going to do? He'd molested his buchou. Worse, he'd sinfully seduced Tezuka into touching him back, and after just one touch—one!—he'd lost it! What could be more embarrassing? Tezuka must hate him, not to mention that the captain was probably horribly unimpressed. Maybe Tezuka was sitting there right now telling Nanjirou that he wanted to go home. Would he expose what Ryouma had done? Ryouma couldn't blame him. He definitely wouldn't stay under the same roof as some over-horny little kid who had felt him up...

But... Was that how Tezuka saw him? Or... maybe... Could Tezuka maybe think a little better of him than that? No matter what he'd said, Tezuka hadn't once pushed Ryouma away. He easily could have, but he didn't.

All of a sudden, Ryouma just wanted to flat out ask Tezuka what the captain thought of him, and thoroughly apologize if need be. He didn't want his buchou to hate him, no matter what.

Placing the sandwich (with only one missing bite) down on the plate, Ryouma stood, his hands trembling just slightly. He understood that he couldn't avoid Tezuka forever, even if it meant facing mortifying embarrassment. He had to be responsible and apologize for his actions or else he'd never be able to face his captain again. 

"Oi, Ryouma."

Startled, Ryouma whirled to face his father. Just as he'd been planning to intrude on their conversation and pull Tezuka aside for a serious chat! Now, here he was, thrown off guard with no chance of regaining the momentum. Stupid old man!

"What?" he snapped in English.

"No need to be so hostile," Nanjirou replied, holding up his hands as if to prove his good intentions. "I just think it would be polite of you to keep Tezuka company while your mother and I are out tonight."

Ryouma practically felt the blood seep from his face. "Out? W...why?"

"Well, your mother bought this wonderfully sexy little outfit this afternoon, so I thought it would be nice to go out and enjoy it. Sorry, but we're going to a bar, so you boys will just have to stay home and play nice. Which means being hospitable, and not hiding up in your room while our guest is forced to make polite with your parents," Nanjirou scolded, rather cheerfully.

Suddenly Ryouma noticed the distinct lack of the usual Yukata, instead replaced with a horribly sleezy, open chested western shirt and gold necklace coupled with elegant black pants. The whole ensemble—awful as it was—seemed terribly wasted on a man who had constantly dressed in Japanese style since their return to his home country.

"Exactly," called his mother on her way down the stairs. She was clipping in a golden hoop earring when she appeared. Ryouma wondered if she’d read his mind but then he blushed as she flicked a disparaging glance at his barely-touched sandwich. He looked away, reminded of what was expected of him. "Do be good, boys. Oh, I know you will Tezuka, dear, but Ryo... Honestly, you need to try and be more considerate of your friends. Well, you boys have a good night. We'll see you in the morning!"

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Nanjirou called over his shoulder as he dragged his wife out of the kitchen. "And if you do, do it twice!" he yelled from the entranceway.

And they were gone.

Finally, in the ensuing silence, Ryouma noticed Tezuka standing in the doorway to the living room, simply watching him. Had he been there the whole time?

Instantly, Ryouma's annoyance with his father turned to a full serving of embarrassment. He stared at the sandwich, unable to meet his captain’s eyes.

He was supposed to be apologizing. That was what he had decided on. Hadn't he-

Without warning, Ryouma was dragged out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Buchou, wha-?"

"Get changed," Tezuka ordered simply, strolling into Ryouma's room and grabbing the nearest sports clothes which happened to be hanging on the closet door after his mother had repaired them.

"Eh?" Ryouma's eyes widened drastically but Tezuka turned and walked out of the room, confirming that there were still such barriers of propriety between them.

When Ryouma walked downstairs—rife with hesitation—he was met by Tezuka, who held both of their rackets and a sling of balls. Without a word, the captain walked out the back, expecting Ryouma to follow.

Twice, Ryouma attempted conversation, but Tezuka brushed him off and then they were up at the adapted temple court. Nanjirou had set up basic lights to play by night but they were nothing fancy. Under that dim glow, Tezuka immediately began to stretch, indicating for Ryouma to do the same.

"Y-you must be tired," Ryouma muttered quietly.

"It's fine," Tezuka replied. "It'll just be a light game."

So he said, but after the following silence while they stretched and then took up their positions at either end of the court... and after one, easy-going practice-match serve... 

Ryouma didn't know what happened. Both he and Tezuka began hitting the ball ferociously; focusing on it as though it represented everything in the universe. Neither was willing to let one point escape but escape they did, mostly because, as the match (and it was a match) drew on, each began to play more and more recklessly. Ryouma never thought he'd see Tezuka play like that, but then, he didn't expect it of himself, either. He didn't know what was wrong with him but he just couldn't stop whacking the ball as hard as he could. It felt damn good. There were errors—nasty, stupid errors—but there were also incredible points that made him feel high. Tezuka, even while playing so recklessly, was ahead by three games to one. From the start, he'd kept more composure than Ryouma. But in the fifth game, that composure finally snapped. Tezuka seemed somewhat more worn than usual and his reckless hits became even more sloppy, giving Ryouma the chance to win back a game. Then it was Ryouma's serve, and he served it out well, catching up to Tezuka's three games.

Then, somehow, before either realized it, their sloppy hits became precise; their wandering thoughts became sharp and focused. In the back of his mind, Ryouma realized that he hadn't been thinking about tennis at all, but rather about Tezuka. Focusing on his opponent rather than the game had produced many openings, and Tezuka had done the same. Now, as if slipping into a trance, the two began to play a real, flawless game of tennis, worthy of their abilities. Their frustrations vented, a new energy settling in, they played the match out. 

Neither used their special techniques from that point out. It wasn't the destined match that Ryouma had been longing for, but it was a good, solid game that ended 7-5 to Tezuka. Ryouma's longing wasn't satisfied by the match, but... he wasn't unsatisfied, either. He certainly didn't feel the usual frustration that came with losing. Instead, he felt... refreshed.

When he looked up through bleary eyes that had suddenly begun to feel the lack of adrenaline and accumulation of exhaustion, Tezuka was a lot closer than he had last noted. Before he had a chance to acknowledge it, Tezuka's fingers slipped under his chin, and the captain's lips came down on his.

Too tired to wonder about it, Ryouma closed his eyes and let the soft feel of Tezuka's lips soothe his troubles. As Tezuka's tongue slipped into his mouth, he responded automatically. His racket slipped from his fingers to the sand and his tired arms came up to Tezuka's hips, lightly holding them as he replied to Tezuka's kiss.

It wasn't a deep kiss, but both were adequately panting for breath by the time they parted, lips lingering close.

"Ryouma."

It was almost a command. "B-buchou," Ryouma breathed, shyly glancing down before he brought himself to meet his beloved captain's stern eyes.

But they weren't stern at all.

"I'm sorry!" Ryouma burst out. "I made you do things you didn't want to. Obviously that's why you got so angry and unfocused during the match... I'm sorry. I just… can't help myself."

Tezuka seemed taken aback for a moment, but then he firmly grasped Ryouma by the shoulders. "Don't you realize that I was the one who just kissed you?"

Ryouma froze, thought about it, and found only blankness. "Really?"

Tezuka's eyebrow seemed to twitch in bemusement, or maybe in the place of his lips which couldn't possibly smile—no, that would be too much of a concession.

Suddenly, Ryouma was crushed in a tight hug that had him tingling all over, though that might have been due to a lack of circulation. What Tezuka said next made him forget any sense of discomfort.

*

"I've been lost for days, not knowing what to do with such unfamiliar feelings. I was sure they would only bring trouble so I've been trying to hide them from you, but just the slightest temptation from you and I lose control-" "I'm sorry-" "Hush. What I mean is that... Ryouma, I'm unsatisfied to remain only as your captain. I want to be much more in your life, if you'll let me. I realize that I've acted selfishly, dragging you out here to play out my frustrations... and then kissing you without any warning. I apologize. It's just..."

Ryouma's wriggling out of Tezuka’s tight grasp cut him off, and then the weight of arms around his neck pulled him down to meet tempting, pouty red lips. It was as though Tezuka fell into a dream the moment Ryouma's lips touched his. He couldn't think, he couldn't act, he could only react.

The first year's lips were impossibly addictive. They destroyed Tezuka's senses, will, and coherent thought, and when he was deprived of them in place of air to breathe, he felt the most overwhelming sense of disappointment. He was sure he would be going through withdrawal symptoms if the kiss had lasted only a few moments longer.

As it was, his body was responding to Ryouma without the slightest of consent from his brain. His arms were somehow loosely draped about the boy's body, his fingers dipping ever so slightly beneath the rim of Ryouma's shorts. He could feel the skin of the boy's back, and realized he'd already pushed the Ryouma's shirt up to gain that contact. And Ryouma's hands... One had woven tightly into his short hair, and felt like it belonged there, cradling Tezuka's skull through soft green/brown padding. The other had somehow crept between them and up underneath Tezuka's shirt, one finger very nearly brushing Tezuka's nipple.

The realization caused the captain's erection to leap enthusiastically in his shorts but he was determined that no matter what, this time he would restrain himself until he knew where he stood. Ryouma, though it was easy to forget, was very young, and just as impressionable as any boy his age. Tezuka, while almost as young, was well used to carrying responsibility. It was his duty to make sure that Ryouma understood his intentions perfectly, and most importantly, that he understood Ryouma's.

And so, when Ryoma reached once more for his lips, he pulled away with a slight shake of his head. 

"We should go inside before we cool down too much," he said, gently detangling himself from the boy. "Neither of us can afford to get sick."

He was expecting confusion. He was expecting uncertainty. Apparently, he had forgotten who he was dealing with.

"I don't know about you but I don't think I'm going to 'cool down' any time soon," Ryouma replied, with the most infuriatingly sexy smirk.

It was maddening, it was...

"All the more reason to go inside," Tezuka insisted, just barely and by merit of his iron will—that Ryouma was steadily dissolving into a molten metal river. He just hoped the boy understood that such a flow of piping hot metal was very, very dangerous.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a nice night out, but Ryouma wasn’t very appreciative of it. He was too aware of Tezuka walking just behind him. He kept wanting to turn around and check that the captain was still there; that his expression was no less certain than it had been the last time he looked.

When Tezuka solved the issue by stepping up beside him and reaching for his fingers, their hands slid together naturally. Tezuka’s hands were a little larger than his, and he wondered if the tiny stature of his own was off-putting, but when he glanced up, there was a smile waiting for him.

He paused on the threshold of the household, about to ask if this was really ok but Tezuka cut him off smoothly, pushing him up against the wall and trapping him with hands either side of his head. His captain was so tall he could probably slip away with little effort but then Tezuka’s body pinned him as well and the illusion of freedom fled. He wasn’t sure what he had expected but it was both thrilling and a little scary to be at this boy’s mercy. Not that he thought Tezuka would ever hurt him, but he was so powerful and had such an overwhelming presence. Ryouma had felt it radiating from the courts, and now it seeped into him.

He waited. There was a tight battle in Tezuka’s eyes.

“Bu-”

Tezuka stepped away and took his hand again, leading him inside without a word. It was getting a bit intense, this silent give and take. Ryouma’s state of arousal flared and waned but never quite faded and when Tezuka was close, when their palms pressed together and their fingers bumped and slid, it triggered something in him that made it consistently harder to walk.

Maintaining the silence, Tezuka led him upstairs and then moved behind him, guiding him through the bathroom door. They stood there, doused in cooling sweat, yet both warm for reasons that had nothing to do with exercise. In the mirror, Ryouma studied the handsome image they made with Tezuka towering over him. He leaned back into the comfortable embrace that wrapped about his shoulders and rolled his eyes up, contemplating Tezuka’s chin just above his head.

“Are you ever gonna say anything?” he asked, mildly irritated with himself for breaking the silence first.

Just to rile him further, Tezuka said nothing, but caressed his cheek and guided him toward a kiss he had no will to refuse. The captain talked with his tongue. “I like you,” said the teasing flick against his sealed lips. “I ‘really’ like you,” said the muscle as it retreated and then slid between Ryouma’s lips. The younger boy withheld his answer until that tongue engaged with his own, trying to draw it into a suffocating tangle. “I want you,” it said, and Ryouma moaned agreement.

He shivered as Tezuka’s fingers grazed his skin, raising his shirt and exploring his physique. Ryouma’s hands didn’t have such lofty objectives—he was too busy marveling in the muscly curve of Tezuka’s hips, his fingers just skimming under the elastic band of sweat-dampened shorts. He was reluctant to part from the deep kiss that had swiftly consumed him but Tezuka gave him little choice, withdrawing little by little until their lips parted with a little smack of released suction and then the world was momentarily muted. Material grazed his face and his arms were forced up and out of the shirt that kept their bodies separated. Tezuka quickly removed his own and then they were kissing again and he could feel Tezuka’s skin against his own.

Why couldn’t he have muscles like that? Taut and powerful under soft, tight skin stretched around to keep the overall result lithe and compact. He could run his hands over that living expanse for all eternity. He would have, too, if he hadn’t tried to press even closer to Tezuka, sending them both toppling against the shower wall. 

The captain held him off, tugging off his own glasses and running a hand through his hair. Ryouma gazed up at the mussed-up mop and lack of spectacles, and his groin pulled just that little bit tighter in appreciation of this new view. He made to kiss Tezuka again but he was thwarted.

“Ryouma, slow down,” he urged. “If we keep this up, I’m going to lose control.”

Something about the way he said it made Ryouma feel oddly nervous, but he was also excited to think of Tezuka out of control in any way. He wanted to see emotion and feeling blatantly etched into those stoic, handsome features. He wanted Tezuka’s body to twitch and spasm in release. 

Belatedly, he realized he was already on the way to his goal. He indulged in a smug smirk. “Finally, he speaks.”

“Yes, and I have something more important to say,” Tezuka told him, fending him off and dodging around him toward the mirror, putting some distance between them.

Ryouma scowled in frustration. Now he wanted to talk! “Can’t it wait?”

“No, it can’t.”

Heat and lust was smothered with those words as Tezuka’s expression turned serious. “I’m much older than you,” he began.

Why did that instigate a pang of shame? It wasn’t like he could do anything about that, and besides… “By two years!”

“Well, yes, but… sometimes it doesn’t feel that way…” Well, he was getting what he wanted—Tezuka, flustered. So why wasn’t he happier about it? “What I mean to say is that sometimes… Sometimes you are much older than you seem—more mature and experienced, but… sometimes… in some things…”

It was easy to forget that Tezuka was young, too. Tezuka couldn’t have all that much more experience than he did, but just maybe—in some things—Ryouma was the more mature. Now wasn’t the time to be shy, or else Tezuka would never accept that he was more than ready for things to blast off between them.

“Buchou. Do you know what happens when two guys have sex?” he asked bluntly, taking a step forward.

“What? Of course, I-”

“And do you know what I have been fantasizing about all week?”

“You… what?” There it was—the shudder of want and weakness of the knees Ryouma knew he would be jealously possessive of from this moment on. “Have you ever…”

“Not yet,” Ryouma anticipated, pleased by the simultaneous flush of heat and flash of jealousy he read in the momentary widening and then narrowing of Tezuka’s eyes—so easy to read without the frames that walled him off. “But if you think I mean to lead you on with a lot of kissing and fondling then you’re really underestimating me.” Before closing the distance between them, Ryouma stopped in his tracks and slowly worked his shorts and briefs down, flinging them toward the discarded shirts. He stood straight and proud before Tezuka, letting the captain feast his eyes on the insistent hardness between his thighs. “So I’m just going to get in the shower now, and if you want to, you can join me,” he invited, spinning on his heel and pushing the shower door open with a clatter.

*

Had he imagined Ryouma would remain innocent forever? Had he imagined Ryouma was innocent at all? What a fool. The rookie was right, they were closer in age than he realized at times, and suddenly he wondered if he might be the one lacking the emotional maturity for what Ryouma was proposing.

Just imagining it had him shuddering in repressed lust even as the water began to run. He couldn’t help running a hand over his straining erection, and he was embarrassed to be caught in the act as Ryouma smirked over his shoulder. The next thing he knew, his aching hard-on was flush up against the mound of Ryouma’s fit bottom and he was blinking streams of water out of his eyes, his hands roaming all over the body trapped back against his own. 

He was still hesitant. This wasn’t the place for either of them to experience the more intricate bedroom arts. He could wait. Ryouma could wait, too, whatever he said. Still, he couldn’t resist letting his hands travel over the boy’s bottom, his fingers sliding between pertly muscled globes and gliding over the opening he longed to explore in more detail.

Though the moan he received in response was encouraging, Tezuka had other plans for now. He spun Ryouma around until the boy was pinned against the shower wall. Looming over him, he dodged the kiss that was sought on tip-toe, maintaining eye contact with big bright orbs and bending his knees to grind his erection into the answering hardness. His breath came in little controlled gasps while Ryouma was less pedantic, breathy and panting.

He could tell the boy was more talk than he implied; he was so close already. Tezuka could hold off a while longer but he wanted for them to tumble over the edge together. He let his awareness revel in the press of Ryouma’s hands on his hips and buttocks, and consciously loosened the tightness in his thighs that would serve to keep his passion in check.

Rolling motions degraded to tight thrusts in pursuit of endless friction and sensation heightened until even the water hitting his back was erotic. His hips were a force of their own and he clutched at the doorframe and clawed at glass for purchase as release came for him. It was Ryouma’s hitch-breathed mewl that triggered a loud, groaning orgasm from him and he fought to keep his footing as everything seem to slide—his feet, his arms, Ryouma, the fabric of reality…

Small arms loosely bound around his hips kept him upright. He opened his eyes.

Why did Ryouma have to wear such an open expression of fascination, gazing up at him like that? It was enough to undo him in ways that had nothing to do with libido.

“Buchou…”

“Hmm?”

“…I’m kinda lightheaded.”

It was tempting to reply, ‘Me too,’ but he was sure the sentiment would just go right over Ryouma’s head, so he scooped the boy up into his arms, gave both of their messy bellies and groins a peremptory rub-down under the stream of water, and then facilitated their way out of the shower and into a pair of big, fluffy towels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for this chapter! It's been a long time in coming because this fic is just so simple and... and... innocent! It tends to get lost in the complex and intricate dramatics of other stories. Thank you for the kudos and subscriptions. I hope you enjoyed the latest installment!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly belated Valentines present. <3

It was Saturday and the weather was inviting. Tezuka probably expected to spend the day in vigorous training. Instead, both he and Ryouma were hauled out of the house and dragged to Tokyo Dome—or, rather, the amusement park beside the Dome.

“Sensei, shouldn't we be working on our formations? Atobe-san-”

“All work and no play makes Nanji a grumpy boy.” Flopping down into a plastic lawn chair near a food cart, he handed Ryouma a 10, 000 yen note. “Go buy some ice-cream.” Then he leaned back, slapped the park pamphlet over his face, and played dead.

Ryouma looked at the note, shrugged, and headed off to do as told—for once.

“It's only 11am,” Tezuka argued. “You should eat something proper.”

“You can get what you like. I'm getting ice cream,” Ryouma insisted—but he was a moment too slow to keep Tezuka from liberating the note from his fingers as they entered the food court.

Grumbling, he looked for a free table. Staking out a mother and daughter who were preparing to head off, he snagged that spot and then glowered until Tezuka returned with a tray laden with salad, curry and rice, and a small plate of gyouza which he placed before Ryouma in peace offering along with a spoon and chopsticks to share the meal.

Going straight for the gyouza, Ryouma had to admit they were delicious, and his mood brightened. He accepted the salad Tezuka nudged towards him and then dug out the juiciest looking meat chunks in the curry to go with his portion of rice.

It was noisy, and neither liked to raise their voices, so they ate in companionable silence until Ryouma announced he was thirsty. He took the thousand yen note Tezuka handed him… and made for the gelato counter.

It was with a smug expression that he settled before Tezuka again. His captain was chewing through the remains of the large salad and trying to stretch what curry and meat scraps lingered across the mound of rice Ryouma had left him.

Meanwhile, Ryouma slurped on a large coke and licked the sprinkles off his macha gelato. He was not, however, unaffected by the glimmer of disatisfaction in Tezuka's eyes and the occasional lingering glance at the untouched half of the gelato cone.

He teasingly, he held out the coke to Tezuka once the older boy neatly settled the empty plates and used utensils on the tray. Tezuka accepted, sipping from the straw extended toward him.

Ryouma then thrust the cone at him, pleased when Tezuka smiled and licked from the top of the waffle cone up to the wilting half of the tip. It was only belatedly that he realized they were gazing mushily at each other like one of those TV couples everyone made fun of and thus made a concerted effort to polish off the rest of "the good bit." One small bite off the cone and then he handed the rest to his captain and took the tray to dispose of.

That was the first slope on a long slide into delinquency for Tezuka who eventually forgot all about the match he should be preparing for and accompanied Ryouma through a variety of stores, attractions, and rides. By the time their gondola on the ferris wheel rose to the skyline, the sun was setting in all it's vain glory.

It was a moment for feelings, confessions, and affirmations—and it made Ryouma uncomfortable. Perhaps that was why he dodged to the one place that might ruin the day.

“Are you worried about the match?”

Tezuka didn’t flinch. In fact, he became so still that only his eyes moved to look at Ryoma from their corners while the angle of his face remained trained upon the horizon. “No,” he said, observing the response. “Nanjiroh-sensei is right. We're prepared. Relaxation is also important.”

Ryouma turned his face away, looking out the window to the left where darkness had already settled. “Do you think he knows? About us?”

“How can he know what I don’t?”

The sharp comment took Ryouma by surprise and he spun back to see Tezuka’s face—it was carefully controlled but Ryouma now had his full attention. “Buchou?”

It was impossible to tell what went through Tezuka’s mind in the short pause that ensued. “Is there an 'us,' Ryouma?”

“Last night-”

“Last night, we jumped directly to physicality.” Tezuka reminded him. “Today…” He smiled just a little, despite the tension, causing Ryouma’s heart to skip in direct correlation. “Today has been different.”

“I liked it,” Ryouma said nervously.

“I've enjoyed it, too,” Tezuka told him, putting Ryouma a little more at ease. Then his expression closed over again. “The question is... Is this what you want? Physicality, yes, but also dates and arguments, and being open with our parents-”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes. I won't lie to my mother—or yours—and yes, to answer your question, I think Nanjiroh-sensei is aware that something has developed between you and I.” Stern discipline quickly gave way to humor at Ryouma’s expense.

Groaning, Ryouma flopped against his captain's side. “I'm never gonna hear the end of it.”

Tezuka wound an arm around him, chuckling. “Don't think I'll be spared.”

“How do you think your mum will take it?”

“I was talking about your dad... but... My mother is a little…” Ryouma looked up at the hesitant tone. Was Tezuka blushing? “My mother is a rampant fujoshi.”

Intrigued, Ryouma kept his eyes peeled on those rosy cheeks. “You mean, she reads BL manga and stuff?”

“Actually... she draws it,” Tezuka finished in a mumble, staring deliberately ahead as they began their slow descent.

Incredulous at this bizarre break from his image of the Tezuka family, Ryouma shot upright. “Your mum draws BL manga?”

“Yes.”

“...She wouldn't write about us, would she?”

Tezuka's response was gruff and wooden, his body stiff with indignation or maybe denial of embarrassment. “I'm sure she already has ideas, if she hasn't drawn them already, so if you're going to be my boyfriend you'll have to prepare for the worst.”

“Boyfriend…”

“...Boyfriend.”

“Hey, boyfriend?”

“...Yes?”

“Nothing. I just like the sound.”

“Insolent brat.”

*

Tezuka was surprisingly unbothered by having done nothing productive all day. After the Ferris wheel, Nanjiroh had found them and hurried them back to the Echizen residence for a delicious American style roast meal that the ladies of the house had prepared while they were out.

If either of them found Ryouma's openly cheerful behavior out of character, they kept it to themselves. Instead, plans for departure in the mid-morning to catch the earlier block and what items to pack for a picnic before Tezuka and Nanjiroh's late afternoon match-up ruled the conversation. Nanjiroh was oddly tame through it all.

“Tezuka-kun, see you at the ungodly hour of 8am,” was all he said before standing from the table. He reverted to character long enough to make some silent, suggestive motions at his wife before backing out with an innocent whistle.

“You know I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to get a divorce, right?” Ryouma sighed.

His mother simply giggled, but his aunt was less impressed.

“You should be thanking Nanjiroh for setting things up for you,” she huffed.

“Huh-?!”

Tezuka jumped in swiftly, sure that this was not the time and place for what would otherwise take place. “Please, allow me to help with the dishes.”

“Oh, no, Tezuka-kun. You have your match tomorrow. You should go relax—and take Ryouma. He'll only get in the way, otherwise.”

For being married to a wild card like Nanjiroh Echizen, Rinko was a very mild-mannered woman most of the time. However, the match seemed a little more likely when she made a big, bold wink at him when Ryouma wasn’t looking.

Clearing his throat, Tezuka nodded politely, thanked both women, and then did as told, taking Ryouma by the elbow and leading him upstairs. His grip softened as they moved further away from the kitchen. By the time they got to Ryouma’s room, his palm was pressed against the center of the boy’s back.

“I guess you should get to sleep early,” Ryouma muttered with adorable reluctance.

“Soon,” Tezuka responded, already pulling Ryouma into his arms.

For the first time since he had come to stay in this house, Tezuka had gotten through the day with very little arousal to distract him. Perhaps he was more satisfied by their encounter the night before than expected, but he suspected it was a less cosmetic issue.

Desire was one thing; emotional attraction was another. Spending the day with Ryouma—just the two of them, hanging out and having fun like never before—had shown him sides of the boy he had never known. Ryouma was scared of the lamest parts of haunted houses and stoic in the faces of the truly scary ghouls. His scream of thrilled terror was shockingly high pitched when soaring down a steep vertical slope at the very front of a roller coaster. He was also a sucker for Gibli goods. All of this was not only adorable but somehow appealing in a way only the heart could understand.

Tezuka had spent much of the last week struggling against his instincts. Not anymore. His body and heart were in agreement: he should definitely go for it.

Of course, he was already charging ahead without their permission. Ryouma was mewling into the deep kiss that occasionally broke off as they inched back another step or two or when Tezuka hauled the shirt up over Ryouma’s head. His hands worked dexterously to divest Ryouma’s lower body as well and he then tipped the near-naked boy onto the bed and took a step back.

Holding his boyfriend’s gaze, Tezuka lifted his own shirt, pulling it up slowly and enjoying the rapt attention that garnered. By the time he leaned his shirtless body over the seated boy, bracing his arms to either side on the mattress, Ryouma had wriggled out of his underwear and was now stark naked.

The next thing he knew, he was tumbling to the bed, having been yanked by Ryouma. He let out a surprised chuckle of laughter and then leaned in for another, chaster, kiss. He wrapped one leg about the boy’s naked thighs, the thick cloth of his light denim jeans making a pretty contrast to Ryouma’s slightly tanned legs.

“Buchou, aren’t you too young to be this confident in bed?” Ryouma gasped when Tezuka began nuzzling his neck.

“Look who’s talking,” Tezuka scoffed.

“I was raised by my letch of a father. What’s your excuse?”

“I guess he’s rubbed off on me,” Tezuka replied with the closest thing he had ever manifested to a sadistic smirk.

Ryouma’s eyes widened in horror at the semi-intended innuendo. “He hasn’t, has he?” he asked, his voice practically trembling.

Tezuka could help it. He smiled. Ryouma was just too damn cute. “No,” he whispered, “He hasn’t.”

By the time he finished speaking, his lips were only a breath away from Ryouma’s. Pausing a moment to search the boy’s beautiful bright eyes, he then met Ryouma’s lips in a deep, long kiss that all but negated the previous conversation from either of their minds. It was a very different kiss from those that came before, sweeter and full of promises.

As the tension dissipated some, Tezuka regressed to simple, gentle caresses of Ryouma’s lips with his own, meanwhile beginning to explore the younger boy’s body, his fingers brushing lightly over surprisingly soft skin. He shifted, his lips drifting to Ryouma’s chin, down his throat, over his Adam’s apple…

“Buchou,” Ryouma breathed, the use of the formal term turning Tezuka on even more than he already was.

His lips closed upon Ryouma’s nipple and he began to suck, his tongue flicking over and around the pert bud, teasing it to full hardness. Only when he felt the boy squirming did he reluctantly release it… only to apply the same amount of attention to the other, already stiff and waiting to be kissed.

Tezuka could have gotten lost swirling his tongue around and around Ryouma’s cute little nipples but the boy’s groan of frustration finally gained his attention and he looked up, realizing that he was driving Ryouma almost past his limits. Actually, he was gradually beginning to reach his own, without even being touched, and that just wasn’t…

“Echizen.”

The boy didn’t respond to the habitual summons, except to stare at him blankly through lust-darkened eyes.

“Ryouma,” he corrected, earning a prompt, if slightly slurred, “Hai,” in return. “Come here.”

Tezuka moved, sliding off the bed and onto the floor whilst guiding Ryouma’s legs to the edge of the mattress. It only took a moment for the boy to figure out what Tezuka’s goal was and he complied fairly eagerly, though with a decent sense of shyness.

Feeling slightly shy for a moment himself, Tezuka looked up at his companion. Ryouma looked damn good with red lips beginning to swell from so much kissing. His hair was slightly tousled which was sexy enough to begin with. However, it was his eyes that caused Tezuka’s blood to drain steadily away from his head towards more productive regions.

Ryouma’s eyes were currently a very dark gold, his pupils large and round, dilated with lust. What he would never say in words, his eyes portrayed very clearly: he wanted Tezuka. Very much. But it wasn’t just physical. Tezuka couldn’t explain exactly what it was in Ryouma’s expression that told him that, but it was there loud and clear.

No longer hesitating, Tezuka lowered his gaze, sliding his hands up along Ryouma’s strong, toned thighs. He bent between them, turning his face to one side and brushing his lips against skin stretched tight over muscle.

He heard Ryouma’s breath catch, the butterflies in his own stomach collectively doing a little flip in appreciation. He wanted to hear more of that from Ryouma.

Spreading the boy’s thighs wider, he ducked to run his tongue over Ryouma’s balls, very lightly at first, to gauge his reaction—and what a reaction. Just one little lick and Ryouma gasped “Buchou,” as if he’d just been given a chocolate Karupin.

Tezuka’s lips twitched in a smirk, and then he licked again, this time closing his lips over the skin.

“Aah!”

Ryouma was apparently rather sensitive in that area.

Not the sadistic type, Tezuka shifted his attention from Ryouma’s balls, finally focusing on the rigid erection his nose had been bumping against. Ryouma was very hard. He was even leaking pre-cum already.

Tezuka wanted to look up and see the expression on Ryouma’s face but he was afraid it might affect him too much, too soon. Instead, he raised himself up on his knees and bent over the head of Ryouma’s cock, swiping his tongue over the sensitive flesh. Ryouma’s hands instantly buried into his hair, and the boy’s legs spread further apart even as Tezuka’s lips consumed the tip and journeyed down. As he took more into his mouth, his tongue explored the head, lapping up the consistently leaking moisture and swirling around its source.

It wasn’t as if this was something he did often, but he’d subtly absorbed certain tendrils of advice from various sources (like his pervert mother) and despite what some might have thought, he happened to have a rather creative mind (probably thanks to the same source). Practice, of course, was always rather different to theory, and he found his limits soon enough, his gag reflex kicking in earlier than he’d expected.

Relaxing his tongue, he received a little more, encouraged by Ryouma’s groan of pleasure. From there, he began bobbing, his lips and tongue sliding over the appendage as he established a rhythm. Meanwhile, he began to play with Ryouma’s balls, lifting and squeezing them.

It wasn’t long before Ryouma came, his brief warning coupled by the tightening of his testicles as he shot his load into Tezuka’s mouth a moment later.

The last time Tezuka had given a blow job—in fact, the only time—he had been too disgusted to swallow. He’d been embarrassed and wanted to back out the whole way through, and once it was over, he’d almost gagged and spat, barely retaining the self control to make it to the sink.

This was different. This was something he wanted to do. Hearing Ryouma’s sounds of pleasure, feeling just what he was doing to the boy… He wanted that. Ryouma’s ejaculation was just more proof of Tezuka’s success in pleasuring him, and so he swallowed, even licking clean the softening head of Ryouma’s penis.

When he was done, he looked up to see Ryouma staring down at him with soft eyes, still trying to catch his breath.

“Buchou,” he breathed. “That was…”

Apparently he didn’t have the words to describe it, or, more likely, he was too embarrassed. Instead, he leaned down, almost between his own legs, and kissed Tezuka hard on the lips.

Instantly, Tezuka was reminded of his own erection, which was now straining very insistently against his jeans. Ryouma’s tongue rubbing against his own, his hands on Tezuka’s shoulders and back, his scent and the lingering taste of his cum…

Tezuka moaned. He was so hard it hurt.

Ryouma must have noticed how tense he was because he broke the kiss. “Buchou… if you want to… I mean...” He paused and pulled back a bit further to properly look Tezuka in the eyes. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Upon hearing that question, Tezuka almost died. The answer was most definitely yes, and he couldn’t even begin to deny it, but he knew it couldn’t happen just yet. It was up to him to be responsible and to make the right choices.

He shook his head. “I want you,” he said. “But not tonight. I trust you, and I know you’re more mature than some adults can be, but even if you’re ready, I’m not. I want to take this easy so we don’t make any mistakes… We should take our time after I go home, get used to living apart while being together. Is that okay?” he asked, hoping that the answer was yes. If Ryouma insisted, then Tezuka couldn’t possibly say no.

He’d underestimated Ryouma’s faith in him. The boy instantly nodded. “Hai, buchou!” he said, and though his eyes gave away that he was a little disappointed, he smiled, just a touch shyly.

Tezuka was just contemplating going and masturbating in the shower when Ryouma slid off the bed, pushing him back onto the floor. He crawled over Tezuka and sat right on top of his aching erection.

“Ryouma-”

“I’ll behave,” Ryouma promised, sounding much more like himself now that his distracting problem had been taken care off.

Tezuka almost argued—almost—but he was too hard, and he really did want to have Ryouma touch him rather than quickly jerking himself off and trying to pretend it was enough. It was difficult to keep himself from squirming, though, or from humping the shapely little ass seated atop his trapped hardness.

Luckily, it wasn’t long before Ryouma flicked the button open on Tezuka’s jeans, sliding back over the bulge to draw down the zipper. Even that insignificant action caused Tezuka a sense of pleasure, and the moment his cock was free, he tensed his hands, having to forcibly stop himself from grabbing and stroking then and there.

Ryouma quickly freed his erection, pulling down the white cotton briefs that had held it captive. He didn’t waste time, taking Tezuka’s length in his hand and stroking slowly and evenly.

He leaned down, kissing Tezuka’s nipples in much the same way as Tezuka had done to him earlier, only, with his hand wrapped around Tezuka’s cock, the pleasure of his rough tongue scraping the eager little buds went straight to the groin. It wasn’t long before Tezuka was muttering “Ryouma” and “Echizen” consistently under his breath, unable to stop his hips from thrusting a little.

Then, Ryouma shuffled back further until he could reach Tezuka’s cock with his mouth. Firmly and quickly stroking the base, he took the tip between his lips and began to suck and rub with his tongue, quickly pushing Tezuka over the edge.

“Ryouma!” the captain cried, his back arching off the floor, his thighs straining to part further but constricted by his jeans.

After a short but intense orgasm, he flopped back to the floor, panting and trembling. He was covered in sweat and Ryouma’s tongue lapping at his wet groin was rather pleasant.

“You learn fast,” he wheezed, idly curling his little lover’s hair around his finger in parody of the way he’d been curled around Ryouma’s.

“Hopefully that means we can speed up that timetable of yours,” Ryouma responded cheekily. Tezuka was inclined to agree but he kept his mouth shut to avoid making any promises. “Hey. When you beat that stupid monkey king tomorrow, you can have a special prize from me, so think about it, ok?”

Tezuka groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. “Are you trying to keep me up all night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol Yet another random occupation for Tezuka's mother. But don't you just love the concept? XD.


End file.
